


Strange and Familiar

by belles-lettresdemoncoeur (ASparkofBlack)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, M/M, character death but not really, pv characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 22:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASparkofBlack/pseuds/belles-lettresdemoncoeur
Summary: Brett is the male version of Bridgette that my friend plays. This fic is a gift for my friend Mal AKA miraculous-junbug.tumblr.com





	Strange and Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Brett is the male version of Bridgette that my friend plays. This fic is a gift for my friend Mal AKA miraculous-junbug.tumblr.com

Brett arched his brows as his felt Alan’s hand on his shoulder. “What is it?” When he looked up at the older brunet he wasn’t surprised to be met with concerned green eyes but what surprised him was the sadness lurking there. Bad news then. “Al, come on, spill. Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“That Librarian. The one you liked..” Alan started only to place his tablet down in front of Brett. There on the full spread was news of an accident. A building collapse - the cafe that they went to often for lunch. “The staff said that he was there. That he’d gone back in for someone but it-” 

Brett pushed the tablet away. He doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want to think about this - about Félix being dead. “I won’t believe it until we have an answer - a solid answer. A body.” 

“Brett, you don’t understand. They may not find anything left. The collapse was really, really bad.”  
____________

Reports trickled in as the days and even weeks after unfolded. Félix had been inside. He had ushered people out as soon as the building started to shift - shouting orders and instructions. But in the hustle, the rush of havoc and chaos they lost track of the blond.

And then…. 

The only sign they find of Félix is his bag. Part of it charred the rest splattered with dirt and dried blood. Brett felt like all the air was sucked from the room and everything went cold a dull hum taking over all other sound. 

Félix was gone.  
_____

LB frowned glancing over to his partner. Rather his new partner. Yes, it was a blond but instead of an icy blue in a field of acidic inhuman green it was a darker shade of green. Instead of long wild blond hair it was shorter and a stylized brand of messy. He was capable LB would give him that but…

He was reckless and too wild. He’s young and just a kitten really - an overeager kitten. Not cunning and controlled. Not his Chat. 

“Bug? You okay?”  
“I’m just… “  
“You miss him, right?” The kitten’s ears droop a little before he shifted his position to nuzzle and rub his cheek against his older partner’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

LB sighed and stroked his gloved hand over his partner’s tousled golden hair. “It isn’t your fault, Kitten. You’re a good Chat. It’s not just Chat. I… think I lost someone much more important.”  
“Oh.” Those dark ears flatten almost disappearing into the kitten’s hair. “That’s terrible, LB.”  
“I just need some time. Don’t worry, Kitten.” Even as he says it he knows he needs to stop making his kitten worry.  
______

It’s a year before it happens. Brett performing on stage when there’s an akuma - an akuma that is furious with him and held him multiple feet above the stage tangled in a marionette’s rig. Where is that kitten? 

“Malheur!”

Those strings broke and Brett started to fall to the stage, he braced himself to land hard. Only he never hit the flooring of the stage. Instead, a strong arm caught him and he was brought to rest against a solid, warm chest; clad in leather. Dark leather, familiar under his hand, fingers tangled in blond hair; longer but pale blond - the right blond. And when he looks up his eyes are meeting a pale icy blue. 

Brett feels his heart drop and his stomach flip. He knows those eyes. He knows them. 

Félix. 

The blond that holds him leaps and deposits him down in a balcony. “Stay low, get out. I’ll handle him.” 

He turned moving to leap back down onto the stage, calling out to the akuma as he does, “You know I’m not a fan of puppeteers, especially when they’re playing with people. I hope you enjoyed your little sliver of control, you won’t be keeping it. I think you’ll find that I’m the one pulling all the strings.” Even as he speaks his suit morphs, silvery-blue threads shooting out from his fingers latching onto the ones he’d severed seconds before and spiraling upward winding and twisting around Puppetmaster’s hands. 

When the hero who reminds Brett of his friend, crush - Félix - lands the leather Chat like suit is changed, long trailing twin tails form from what appears to be an evening jacket, wild blond hair is tamed by a silvery-blue ribbon; his cat ears and tail are gone.

Brett finds himself watching, peeking. Those movements - the motions, they’re fluid like a dancer, familiar; painfully familiar. He ducks away to find a safe place to transform.  
_____

By the time he returns, his little Kitten-Chat is eyeing the stranger warily; an object between his clawed hands ready to be broken to free the akuma. The stranger is simply idly plucking at the strings that were holding the now captive akuma tethered to that marionette rig; a disinterested half-smirk tugging at his mouth. 

The stranger seems to go on alert the instant LB arrives and turns glancing over his shoulder. “That’s my cue.” 

The spotted hero shakes his head, swinging onto the stage. “No. Stay.” It comes out as a sharp demand and the stranger bristles so Brett softens it with - “Please.” 

Chat looks at him confused but he’s shattering the object - a golden pocket watch. LB catches and purifies the akuma. Soon the three heroes are leaving it to civilians to tend the victim and find their friends; retreating out onto the roof - the Kitten breaks the silence, “So… who are you?” 

The sound of LB slapping his forehead is audible - Subtle his Kitten isn’t - and the stranger chuckles. “You can just consider me back-up. Secrets need to be kept, don’t they?” It’s an enigmatic but logical answer - which is something that ticks Brett off because he can’t press for more without arousing suspicion. Damn it. 

There’s a beep that sounds from Chat’s ring and LB ruffled his hair. “You should run along. You’re going to lose your whiskers..” He taps the younger boy’s nose gently. And the Kitten looks concerned, worried green eyes looking over to the newcomer. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

LB taps his nose again. “I can swing away if I need to. Run along, Minou.” Even if Chat wants to stay there’s a second beep and he’s bolting as fast as his baton can take him.  
___  
“You remind me of someone.” LB started softly moving closer cautiously, bright sapphire blue eyes watching for flicker of recognition in the other’s face.

“I hear that a lot lately.” He considers, moving to lean against the chimney that LB decided to press his back against as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who was he?” 

“That’s a good question. Fé … he could have been a lot of things if we ever got the chance.”

Silent reigned for a moment, “Is that why you’re so interested in me? I remind you of this Fé - person? Are you expecting me to be flattered or play my hand at being his substitute?” The blond sounded offended.

“Of course not. No one else could ever be Félix. None of the plans I had for us would work with anyone but him. No one else will ever be him.” Brett answered his voice cracking near the end. Because it’s true. It’s not even that no one else could sing like Félix it was that no one else made him feel like Félix did. There was something lacking and it was simply because it wasn’t Fé. 

The blond considered a long moment before he pushed off of the chimney. “I believe I knew your Félix - assuming he’s the one tonight’s concert was dedicated in memory of. If he is I recall him being in love with that violinist. Brett something or other?” 

A hand raked through midnight blue hair and he inhaled softly, tears stinging and pricking at the backs of his eyelids as they fell closed. “That’s him. That’s my Félix.” Because it’s true. “I have it on equally good authority that Brett loved Félix - still does, actually.” 

“Do you?” A hand gripped Brett’s chin, this one gloveless; unlike before when he’d been Chat or when he’d rescued him moments ago. ”Do you still love him, Monsieur Dupain-Cheng?” Félix pressed, his thumb teasing along Brett’s lower lip. 

The raven-haired young man pushed him away and turned away from him. “I told you I do. And I don’t want your… pity or whatever in the hell that was.” Even if it’s the first time he’s felt anything since Félix died. “I just am trying to feel you out if you’re really here to help us - we need to be a team and I need to be able to trust you.” 

Then it slammed into him full force. This stranger had called him Monsieur Dupain-Cheng. Félix had done that and he hadn’t told this guy who he was but Félix - Félix had known! 

“Fé?”

Félix took a breath and moved safely out of sight from prying eyes and let his transformation fall - opening his arms for Brett a split second later. Once the mask was gone he found himself with his arms full on violinist; his mouth far, far to busy to deliver any of the well-practiced and memorized apologizes he’d composed in his head for this exact moment. 

But sometimes words were absolutely superfluous, this seemed to be one of them and Félix is okay with that.

Later, Brett will demand answers but for right now the only answer he wants is Félix’s body pressed tight against his own.


End file.
